


The Right Skill Set

by chaineddove



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-21
Updated: 2008-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:53:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaineddove/pseuds/chaineddove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not only is Yuuri King of the Demons, he is also King of Fundamentally Stupid Ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Skill Set

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was: “Yuuri throws a barbeque, Josak accidentally volunteers to grill, Anissina ‘helps’ with her flamethrower.” The prompt is kind of… ridiculously specific, so this is basically the only thing I could come up with *lol*

Not only is Yuuri King of the Demons, he is also King of Fundamentally Stupid Ideas. Everyone knows this, more or less, and as a general rule they go along with it, because Yuuri’s intentions are usually good, and he is uncannily lucky with things turning out well no matter how badly convoluted they may seem.

That said, everyone really gets into the idea of a cookout, despite the fact that the clouds are hanging ominously low and heavy with snow. The maids rush around with fur-lined capes fluttering behind them and the palace guards call out to them as they busily fill the fire pit they dug earlier in the day with logs dragged in from winter fireplace stores. Someone has hauled in a boar and a buck from the forest and Doria is sorting through an enormous basket of slightly shriveled winter vegetables in the corner of the kitchen courtyard.

Yuuri supervises the erection of some sort of metallic contraption over the fire pit with a righteous gleam in his eyes that indicates to those who know him well that he has only a vague idea of how it’s supposed to work. “My father does this all the time,” Yuuri says cheerfully to Wolfram, who is standing aside and looking petulant and cold. “You put the meat on the grill and the fire cooks it, and then you put… something… on it.” He thinks about it a moment. “Salt, or maybe pepper, I don’t know, we’ll figure it out. You’ll see, it will be _delicious_.”

“And the vegetables?” Wolfram wants to know.

“I don’t know, I guess… they go there too?” Yuuri shrugs. “My mother always liked to wrap the potatoes in tinfoil and put them right in the fire, then take them out and put butter all over them and-”

“Wrap the potatoes in _what?_ ” Wolfram asks, confused.

“Sheet metal,” Murata answers. “Although Shibuya, I must warn you, they don’t make it thin enough here.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says, disappointed. “Really? No tinfoil?”

“I’ve never heard of it before,” Wolfram tells him pompously in a way that implies that anything he hasn’t heard of has not yet earned a right to exist.

“You might want to leave it to the maids,” Murata says helpfully. “They do cook over a fire on a regular basis.”

Yuuri immediately cheers up. “Right!”

“And I’m told Josak has been kind enough to volunteer his services, besides,” Murata tacks on.

Josak comes flouncing out of the castle just then, dressed in his best thigh-highs and a tiny apron over a miniskirt. Everyone stares. “I’m here!” Josak calls out cheerfully, ignoring the downright chilly winter wind as he sashays over.

“As if anyone could possibly miss him,” Murata murmurs, clearly entertained.

“Let me at it,” Josak says. He approaches the fire pit and circles it. “Right!” he says. “No problem, Heika. I’ll get this going for you.” He reaches under the band of his thigh-high, though it’s rather unlikely anything is there. He looks bewildered, then sheepish. “I must have left my flint in my other pair of stockings.”

Just as Yuuri is starting to look really put out, Anissina’s voice rings out from the door to the kitchen, “And this is why I say that you men are incapable of doing anything properly without a woman to guide you through it.” She comes stalking determinedly out of the castle, wearing goggles and some sort of flame retardant vest, shouldering what looks like an enormous flamethrower.

“Anissina-” Gwendal starts, a note of warning in his voice.

“What?” she asks, setting her face in a determined grin. “Heika needs a fire, is this not true?”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“And I am more than skilled at starting fires, is _this_ not true?”

Silence is the only answer anyone can give. Under his breath, Murata comments, “There isn’t any logical way to argue with that, is there?”

“In that case,” Anissina says triumphantly, and positions her weapon. Josak barely has time to yelp and leap out of the way before she sets his apron on fire.


End file.
